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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23632471">Dark Loyalty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/semit/pseuds/Silmarils'>Silmarils (semit)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Melkor's Choice [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:54:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23632471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/semit/pseuds/Silmarils</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Continue down the  toilet of evil, debauchery, and sin. Melkor's elf slave cannot defend himself against attack. The Vala is not pleased with those who dare touch his property. Melkor at his scumbag finest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Melkor's Choice [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dark Loyalty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Background: In order to distract him from the wealth of the Noldor, Eru has given Melkor a far kingdom to the east in which to plunder. The Vala brings with him Mairon, his elf slave, and others to entertain him, leaving Tevildo to watch over Angband temporarily. Eru also grants the gift of the Flame Imperishable to Melkor in exchange for the Silmarils... but there is still a price! A redemption arc series where Melkor eventually discovers that those who wield power must also practice responsibility... but not yet. He is still a scumbag here of the lowest order.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Melkor stroked the fiery Maia’s red silken hair absentmindedly.  Distant were his eyes as the machinations of his warped consciousness whirred.  Many moments slid by as Melkor mused on the throne. Those trapped in the throneroom behind barred doors stared in trepid anticipation at his next impulse. “Mairon, we need to discover what I have conquered here in the garish kingdom. I know that these Malgor rats are plotting already. I can hear their countless thoughts and schemes against my person and armies,”</p><p>Melkor’s eyes were pensive for he could could hear the echoing thoughts of his new subjects. This aspect of the Flame Imperishable was challenging. With its power, he heard the wave of thoughts as voices.  Hearing the voices of all this conquered simultaneously was akin to parsing a vast deluge of information, and sorting through the clamor to pinpoint meaningful intelligence required concentration. To his delight, although he relished the chaos, he could switch off the ebb of thoughts at will, lest their din drive him into madness—further into madness. </p><p>Much of the overheard thoughts were of no consequence. Most curiously though, he could also sense collective unity at times if the thoughts of many directed toward a common goal or focus—he could sense trends.  Thusly, he felt the tide of East Malgor amassing toward fear, to anger, and a desire to overthrow him.  Many of the voices were ignited in fury by the actions of his marauding army. Truly, some of his orcish and human soldiers had gone too far in their pillaging and ravishing this eastern land.</p><p>Now he willed a thought of his own to the armies and issued a command, “Stop! You are done with your plunder. Rest, then assemble in the great courtyard outside of the tallest Malgor tower all at sundown to hear mine direction,” He paused to sense if his order was heard and acknowledged by all, especially by the simpler orcs who were blessedly free of intelligence.  They heard. They obeyed. Good!</p><p>Issuing a satisfied grunt, Melkor continued to his beloved Maia, “As I look to the West, I see that Angband needs some attention.” Hmmm, mine two kingdoms, to the east, this Malgorian land, and to the West Angband. I need to set up a permanent, large portal to ease the passage of troops and trade. “In Angband... there are…,” he paused as his mind explored the halls, thoughts, and actions of his stronghold, “There are… internal conflicts. Tevildo is not managing their squabbles well.” He sighed, then quickly flipped to anger, “Incompetent! Fucking Incompetent!” he roared in fury shaking a fist to which a crack of thunder exploded outside. The detonating sound was excruciating loud and many shrieked and cowered at his anger and the incredible, yet superfluous, burst of impulsive power.   </p><p>With an exhale, Melkor closed his eyes to still his anger at Tevildo for he needed to direct many servants to serve him, “What slays me is how quickly Tevildo allowed Angband to descend into squabbling without mine firm hand and love. Mairon, I see...  I feel… Much of their actions are driven by…” spoke he haltingly with still closed lids as he explored Angband from afar, “Hunger! It’s, hunger! They need food, love. We need to bring them some of the bounty of Malgorian, for this is one of my objectives in conquering this ridiculous and garish kingdom.” He gave voice to his train of consciousness, “Ugh! So much of this place is not to my taste. Too many colors and brightly painted dreadfulness. Too many murals, beads, feathers, and lack of purpose. I will give them purpose,” his face contorted for a moment in disgust and he shook his hands as though to rid himself of a sensation,</p><p>“Carir,” spoke Melkor an afterthought to his elf slave, “You need to get rid of these bodies,”</p><p>“To Angband with you, Mairon.  You will need to go to apply a measure of discipline to some of the officers, and especially to that fool Tevildo. But do only use the light rod. You know the one, don’t you love? Do bring it back with you when you are satisfied, and I want Tevildo’s blood on it, and do make sure that some of the blood comes from his arse,” and he traced fingers of wry affection along the Maia’s jaw. </p><p>“Yes, I know the cane of which you speak.  I know it… intimately,” a smile tugged at Mairon’s mouth.</p><p>“As for Malgorian, I require a guide,” he scanned the hall, “You!” He pointed to the man Yannis who visibly startled, “You will make me a tour of this kingdom.  I wish to see your crops, your wares, your munitions, your riches. I wish to see it all before I address mine troops as they assemble tonight. Then the Malgors shall collect provisions and mine soldiers will transport it to Angband. I will establish a gateway between the two kingdoms. First though, let us quickly draw up your papers, Malgor, and give you the writs of my blessing. Then we shall begin the tour. For I do offer my thanks for your gift. Surely your king had a study nearby to draw up papers?”</p><p>“Yes, he did have study, and it is quite near. Come, I will lead you,” Yannis bowed with relief that the Dark One had sufficient integrity to keep his promise of protection. Although Yannis thought foremost of his family, pangs of guilt hung close for he knew that accepting the Dark Lords blessing in the form of protective documents was treason before his king. But the king is dead.  Yet, if I am favored by this new Lord in such a manner this protection could be a boon for my kin to secure greater prosperity in trade, his thoughts drifted, Who is this Melkor? He spoke of a place called Angband? He spoke of magic. Of portals. Why have a not heard of this land? He stiffened then for Melkor came to him and took him by the arm to let the man lead him through the now unbarred doors. The touch of the Dark Lord on his person was not entirely unpleasant. The hands were pale, smooth, warm, and impacted a current of buzzing energy.</p><p>Silence. With the departure of Melkor, Mairon and the traitor Yannis, the air deflated in the throne room and the relief was liberating. Though the door was now open to permit the departure of all, some of the females simply crumpled where they stood, sobbing in a release of tension. Mingled with their lamentations, the gruff voice of the Malgor Captain Greyson echoed, “We will see them gone. We will!  They cannot invade our beautiful lands and take what they will from Malgorian. We will have this profane Melkor tortured, racked, and pleading for his own death! We will have the red Lieutenant drawn and quartered!”</p><p>“Blasphemy! How dare you speak such things of Lord Melkor?” the elf Carir stood tall on the dais, his leash hanging loosely bereft of its Master.</p><p>“Ah, what have we here? A harlot of the devil?” Captain Greyson spoke quietly.  No need to mince words with an elf whore, and he waved a dismissive hand at the elf. “Look what these fiends have done to our people,” The Malgor Captain placed a hand of sorrow across his eyes as he finally absorbed the utter horror of Melkor’s carnage. Terribly the throne room was littered with the gore of his people and the lifeless body of a king who had brought the kingdom to the highest prosperity.  This Dark Lord would rip Malgorian asunder only for his own pleasure.</p><p>“Oh, my departed brothers and sisters, may you enter the holy lands in peace. Listen all, we cannot stand by and allow him to do this to our people. How could he do this?” his sorrow was aching, but soon flipped to anger, “We will execute this false king and drive his demon hoards from our lands! I will personally ensure that this Melkor will find death at the pinnacle of the slowest agony!”  </p><p>Such rage filled the fëa of the bright elf at the words of the Malgor Captain. “Sacrilege!” His green eyes were alight with fury and fist shaking with wrath. Quickly then Carir descended of the dais with light feet to draw near to the one who spoke such irreverence toward his Master, lover, and fulfiller of all his physical and spiritual needs. A convenient stray scimitar was grasped with white knuckles—the floor was littered with dozens of such blades and many jutted out in curved spikes from lifeless victims.</p><p>“Methinks you are… misguided, elf” Greyson pitied the elf, but then added in disgust as he had witnessed Carir’s unholy actions, “Whore.” His features twisted for this elf was clearly complicit in and gloried in the Dark Lord’s foul deeds. Still, the silly creature approached in fury now armed with a Malgor blade, an action which now prompted the Captain to scoop up a scimitar of his own “Stop your threats, foolish one,” he sighed, “Come now, friend. You act in error or else you are mad like your Master. Do not be the villain here for we are not your enemies,”</p><p>The elf was not moved by the hollow words and bared his teeth as he raised his blade.  There was a power in Carir. A dark but subtle power of will. The puissance of unlight. Melkor’s power for the Dark One had gifted the elf with a sliver of his strength of will as he gifted all things to Carir. Always.</p><p>Blades met in a screech of metal.  Carir lunged for his target and was pushed away easily. Again, he curved the blade in a slashing motion, and again the elf was repelled.  Quickly Carir moved around the Malgor Captain, and doubled his speed to confuse. Quite elegant, if ineffective, were the elf’s attacks for Melkor had delighted in training him in the most expert sword play. There was purpose in this training to not only help ensure the Lord’s protection in some small way, but also to ensure that Carir could protect himself from those that would seek to violate the Dark One’s favorite property. This second aspect proved to be most useful.</p><p>Though Carir possessed a strength of will, all of his attacks were parried as the Malgor Captain was simply more skilled, more seasoned, and physically stronger than the elf. Mostly stronger. Still no lunge did Greyson make.  No riposte. It was only defense as others looked on in interest as for over twenty minutes Carir lunged in futile effort.</p><p>“Stand down, elf,” warned the Captain. Panting and with sweat laden hair adhering to his forehead in wet strands, Carir was determined and furious. He fought for the honor of his beloved, and would readily die doing so. This Captain was a threat to Melkor’s designs and Carir believed that such a being needed death—a gift he would gladly grant if he could, but he couldn’t. </p><p>It was then that Carir unleashed a surprise for so rapidly he drew a small dagger hidden in his waist and jabbed it deeply into the side of the Captain. This attack hit its mark for the Greyson gasped and his scimitar wavered. Capitalizing on the surprise, Carir immediately made to repeat the dagger thrust with the intent to drill many bloody holes in the Malgor.</p><p>Skilled was the Captain who, after many past battles, anticipated an opponent’s tendency to rapidly repeat a successful attack.  Replicating the dagger thrust was an amateur technique and failed.  Infuriated by the pain, Greyson’s patience ended and he wished an end to this silly elf’s game. Now on the attack, Greyson issued a powerful lunge that was barely deflected. When another slicing move was scarcely parried, a sheen of fear told hold of the elf and he began an unconscious retreat.</p><p>Flush with pain and bleeding, Grayson was merciless.  Furious he was at the king’s death, the invasion of his beloved kingdom, the audacity of the Dark Lord, the unclean acts, and the betrayal of his once friend and comrade Yannis. None of these things he could control, but he could control the death of this elf which would surely bring some measure of pain to Lord Melkor, “Elf! You die!” and terror gripped Carir for he knew he was out of his depth.  Lunge now the Captain did with rage and grunts of effort as he pounded his enemy. Now raising the scimitar over his head, he slashed down with wicked force. The blow that met the elf’s blade was driven with ferocious force and enough power to crumple Carir backwards to the floor.  With terrified wide eyes, he panted in uncontrollable fear as he sat gazing up at the picture of righteous rage.</p><p>“Please no,” pleaded the elf.</p><p>“Oh yes!” and the Captain thrust the blade completely through Carir’s body to the floor behind him with a sonorous ring of metal.  The elf did not scream or even gasp, but simply fell backwards as the sword was withdrawn.  Blood poured out from his front and back as the light in his eyes began to dim as he lay quickly fading, “Die!” and the Captain peered at the focus of his rage and wrongs against his people.</p><p>“What is this?” roared the voice of Melkor from the entranceway having completed the writs of protection for the traitorous Yannis. The din of a battle drew his attention before he could begin his tour of the kingdom.</p><p>A smile of pure joy then melted across the face of the Malgor Captain holding the bloodied scimitar over his shoulder.  As the Captain saw the expression of horror on Melkor, Greyson felt victorious.  He knew he would not be able to topple this Dark Lord, but he could injure him by destroying one of his treasures. </p><p>“Carir!” Melkor’s heart lurched as he grasped what had transpired and that this Captain had so horribly injured his prized elf.  Immediately he sent out a beam of violet unlight to heal Carir, and the elf instantly healed with a low grunt though he suffered from loss of blood.</p><p>The grin of victory grew broader on the Captain’s mouth for now he plunged the blade into Carir once more. This time the elf screamed terribly and drew his legs up toward his chest.  But he could not move his legs closer for the blade pinned him to the marble floor. Horrible was the gasp and cries of the elf for the blade would not leave to grant him the reprieve of Melkor’s healing arts.</p><p>Melkor simply could not repair him with the sword still in his body.</p><p>The Dark Lord stood fuming with quick breaths of anger, his fingernails driving hard points into the flesh of his palms. Blue Vala eyes shot to those of the smug Malgor Captain. Greyson knew he would now meet his death.</p><p>With his hands, Melkor made a strange motion. It was a though he held a small invisible doll in one hand. Using the other hand, he made as though to twist where the head would be.  Now Grayson dropped the scimitar with a metallic clatter to bring his hands to his throat.  Strange now his neck looked and elongated.  Too long.  It was a through the neck stretched.  All those in attendance that had still not left the hall gasped in horror as the neck grew longer and the skin at the front began to rip. For now the head seemed to be floating as the jaw drifted further from the shoulders.  With a wrenching motion, Melkor pulled higher the head of the invisible doll, and the Malgor captain’s head was now only attached to his body by bloody tendons and trachea.  Blood shot in spurts as Melkor released him, head still connected but only by strings of gore in an unsurvivable horror.</p><p>With puissance freeing the sword from Carir’s body, and rapid healing, the elf sighed in grateful relief as he gazed up to his Master.  The elf was weak, but would survive. Melkor did not touch him or comfort him. He only smiled at his blonde slave and lover. </p><p>“You did well, Carir,” as images of the elf’s memory told him all that transpired.  “Rest now.  But first, do clean these bodies up.”</p>
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